La Manche
by TeaAndUmbrellas
Summary: France bothers England in a world meeting break and then as the meeting goes on reflects on the English channel, and how you take something for granted. One-shot


_Hetalia is not mine, in case there was any confusion about that._

_I know I keep writing sappy England-France stories but bear with me. I like reflecting upon the relationship. I dunno. Maybe I have watched too much Allo! Allo! or something._

_I hope you like it :) Here goes:_

**La Manche**

"Seven."

"What?" England looked up at France.

They were having a break in a world meeting, and the Brit had been reading a paper while enjoying his afternoon tea. A little tray of sandwiches had been brought out, just like it should. Apparently there was pasta for Italy and sushi for Japan. This conference was well catered to everyone.

"Seven cups of tea today. I wonder if it will kill you one day, your love for tea"

"Nonsense. Tea is healthy and good. Milk is good for you too," England simply stated and looked back down into_ the Guardian_.

"You should read_ Le Monde_ or some other French papers, none of yours are any good, mon cher," France said, clearly in one of his bored moods where any conversation would do. Which is why England didn't bother to answer, but changed the topic.

"Do you know why English is the international language and French isn't?" England casually asked as France started chewing on his croissant.

"Le francophone is spoken in many places," France argued, but answered fairly quickly when England let out a sigh and pierced him with his intensely green eyes, "Because of Amerique," France groaned annoyed at the topic. He loathed that topic!

"Well, partly the empire and all that, but mostly it is because your language is bloody difficult. Who the hell invents a written language that doesn't even remotely resemble the spoken? What was the reason again? That priests copying down books were paid pr. letter and thus decided to stick e's and h's everywhere that are not supposed to be pronounced wasn't it?" England told him, with half annoyance and a half grin.

Was he trying to cheer France up, or simply insult his belle langue?

"Francaise is a work of art, not some Anglo-saxon peasantry," France retorted, but England simply laughed and lightly punched him in the arm.

"It is ridiculous, but it suits you I suppose. A bit like how you wear a blue uniform. It's stupid and very unpractical, but it suits you. Just, stop being so insulted when my people have a hard time learning French".

France grinned now.

"However, it also means I shan't be reading your ridiculous papers any time soon, as your language pisses me off," England stated and looked back down into his good, British paper.

France rolled his eyes but left for his seat again. The meeting would soon start again.

It was a regular meeting. Something about global hunger, financial crisis, spread of some illness or other in Asia, a war in some African country where France hadn't had a colony so he didn't care, and something about everyone being doomed anyway because of global warming…

Le sigh.

France had domestic issues enough and some problems with follow up of old colonies and so forth. He did not need all of these things on top of that, but as one of the big five in the Security Council he would have to be involved.

He looked over at England, who was his usual stoic meeting-self. Overly interested in playing a part in the international and always organised, opinionated and often agreeing with America.

England had been quite sweet earlier when France had bothered him. Truly, he had expected the Brit to start shouting as usual. Long-time arch enemies or not France had often felt a little scared of their future.

Of course, he, France, the country of love, had to survive. And he sometimes had been worried about his own future. Even to the point of asking England to marry him. But he had actually been even more worried about the Brit.

Well, you know, if France beat him in war again he would celebrate until the end of time. Sometimes he lived for those moments where he (nearly) brought England to its knees, but what if someone else did it?

What if sometime in the future Ireland overpowered its neighbour and England fell? Or if Russia decided to expand by sea? Or... France needed to stop being silly. The UK was strong, and if France couldn't destroy him, nobody could. Nobody else was allowed.

Was France merely extremely possessive? Possibly.

England is so cute when he lets his guard down, though. Maybe that is why France likes to cross La Manche and sneak into England's house. He remembers when England was little and had asked him what the French called The English Channel.

The tiny island had assumed they would call it the French Channel, or even keep the English name for it - as it is the channel going from continental Europe to England after all - and had been surprised when he learnt it was called "The Sleeve".

When England lets his guard down he is so cute and tender. The way he takes care of his flowers, as if every individual is the most precious thing on earth. Or the way he looks when he reads one of his many books, or watch one of his favourite plays. The way he treasures Shakespeare, Dickens, Austin, Christie, Tolkien and Rowling. His food may be awful, but his literature is amongst the finest the world can offer. Not that France would ever admit to such things.

It reminded him of a French joke he told England once:

_What separates the French from the animals?_

_La Manche_

Angleterre was, of course, not amused. But pointed out the fact that it is exactly what keeps the British away from the animals as well. La Manche.

Canada was in a sense France's little brother, but so was England, they had grown up together and only France was allowed to beat him to a pulp!

It always amused France that the reason Britain was called Great Britain was to distinguish it from the French area on the continent with the same name. England acted as if the "Great" in Great Britain meant that his people were all awesome, but in fact it was to show that the island was bigger than a tiny part of France.

This was a bedtime story Francis loved to tell Matthew when he was small. And something he reminded himself of when he was down himself. France was the greater country of the two.

Francis suddenly realised he had been staring at Arthur for some time and a pair of green eyes were staring back. France smiled his sexy smile and winked, making England visibly wince and turn back to pay attention to the meeting.

* * *

"What was that?" England asked, walking over to France's seat at the table when everyone was preparing to leave for the day.

"What was what?" France asked innocently.

"You staring at me before as if I was on my death bed, then as if I was a stand-up comedian," England asked in a sharp voice.

"Oh that. Well. Just. I was thinking," France tried to row out of this awkward situation. Should he try to explain that he cared for the stupid idiot?

"About what, frog?" England hated useless sentences that wasted time and energy.

"Just promise me this, Angleterre. Don't ever die by someone else's hand, d'accord? Only I am allowed to defeat you in war, and if someone else attacks Big Brother France will save you!" he settled on saying.

"Good heavens, what brought this on, France?" England was clearly startled. His neighbour suddenly sounding like America.

Yes, what brought this on exactly? France just realised the answer: he took England for granted. And it is the things you take for granted that is the hardest to loose.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I think HetaOni got to me. Sodding brilliant game though. I hadn't played it before now but my friend Preussen (I am still declaring war over that, mate) suggested it, and it is the only thing I have been doing after work for three days. Now I have abstinences and found myself in need of writing! _

_That game truly provided many sappy country moments. Wars are "fun and games" until someone is actually wiped off the map and you can't ever see them again.  
_


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